


dos-ashaan

by v3ilfire



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 20:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10624350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v3ilfire/pseuds/v3ilfire
Summary: “What about you? Are you afraid?”Stupid question - of course he was. Of course he was. As soon as he sank to sit beside her, Saoirse let him unfold her until she was slumped sadly across his chest, her legs crumpled between his. His arms were the only things holding her up, all at the cost of prickly static waves over her skin sending terrible, painful mixed signals to her brain, but she would bear it. It was no worse than sitting by herself and waiting for another flare.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HEAVY SPOILERS FOR THE ME:A MQ. answer for a kiss prompt on tumblr so blame nebulad.

In the middle of the Pathfinder’s quarters, dark save for flickers of distant starlight, Saoirse sat shaking with her head buried in her knees, her mind drowning in fear, and her body _on fire_. The gossamer knocks on her door took a sledgehammer to her temples, but she couldn’t move to open it even if she wanted to. Moving hurt, just like breathing, just like thinking _hurt_. At least whatever sympathetic soul pried her hideaway open just to let themselves in had the mercy to close the door behind them. Three steps, and she felt a familiar electric shiver crawl up her spine.

“I’m scared,” she said, without prompting. Jaal did not sit down next to her, but she was acutely aware of exactly where he was standing. Her biotics weren’t in favor.   
“You are fighting for all our people,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but still too loud for the hurricane brewing behind her eyelids. “It is _dos-ashaan_.”   
“The Archon has Aisleigh, and SAM. Soon he’ll have Meridian. Best case scenario, we take heavy casualties. Worst case -- ”   
“Those fears will not help you. You cannot entertain them.” His voice broke, and just like that laid the hopelessness of their situation bare. Saoirse didn’t notice the burning in her throat until the tears spilled over her lashes.  
“What about you? Are you afraid?”

Stupid question - of course he was. Of _course_ he was. As soon as he sank to sit beside her, Saoirse let him unfold her until she was slumped sadly across his chest, her legs crumpled between his. His arms were the only things holding her up, all at the cost of prickly static waves over her skin sending terrible, painful mixed signals to her brain, but she would bear it. It was no worse than sitting by herself and waiting for another flare.

They were silent for a long time. Somewhere along the way, Jaal lost his conviction. “I… had to watch you die. _Twice_.”   
“I’m sorry.” Saoirse felt his arms tighten around her for just a moment in the most gentle reprimand.   
“If - if I had lost you, I would not rest until I had the Archon’s _head_ for a trophy. He has taken far too much already. I could not allow him to continue. I would --”   
“Stop. Please.” Saoirse knew what was next: he’d pledge to die for the cause. It wasn’t something she had to hear after watching him stare down the barrel of Akksul’s gun at point-blank range. As if he knew where her brain had wandered, Jaal sighed.  
“I will never forgive myself if all our efforts are laid to waste.”  
“What was it you just told me? Those fears won’t help you.”

Something about the way he smothered a laugh didn’t exactly convince Saoirse that he fully removed the possibility of martyrdom off his mind, so she took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to sit up. It was a sad attempt, but with his help, she managed. She even had strength left over to wipe her still-running tears away, though they just kept coming.  
“Will you be able to fight?” Jaal choked out. The break in his voice just made not crying that much _harder_. So did the fact that the slight glow in his eyes illuminated just how watery they were.  
“Yeah. Lexi said she could give me something before we disembark. It’ll buy me some time.”  
“Some time before…?” There was no need to answer; the way his voice trailed off told Saoirse that he already knew how this all could end. Most people didn’t come back from the dead the _first_ time, let alone the second or the third. Her body was already weakened, the fourth would be …

Well, it wouldn’t.

A few sentences got stuck in Jaal’s throat, and just as Saoirse thought he gave up on saying anything at all, he took her hands in his.  
“Kiss me,” he said, so hoarse it took her a few seconds to parse, and several more to move her creaky bones and burning muscles to bring her to her knees. It was one of the only times she ever had to lean down to _him_. She was sure that somewhere in there was a joke she couldn’t reach.

The kiss lasted only as long as she could manage. At some point, she had to wrap her arms around Jaal’s shoulders just to support herself. At another, her body grew so stiff and tired that she had to simply resign to leaning her forehead against his.   
“Hey,” she whispered.  
“Yes, my darling one?”   
“Whatever happens. I love you. Thank you for … everything.”  Jaal was slow enough in moving his hands from her hips to circle around her back again that Saoirse could at least retain the last of her balance and dignity.   
“And I love you. And … thank you.” He took a painful pause. “I fear nothing more than losing you.”  
“ _Dos-ashaan_ , right?” She smiled, he smiled. It hurt them both, in different ways. “I like that other word better. About being stubborn.”  
“ _Gosan?”  
_ “Yeah. Let’s just… focus on that one.”

Jaal said something that her translator missed, or maybe her implant was just acting up again, but either way Saoirse could tell by his tone that it was something terribly touching and she was nothing short of terrified to hear it. Fearing that speaking would invite him to elaborate, Saoirse slumped down just suddenly enough to give him the hint that he needed to guide her until she was curled up motionless, her head on his lap.

There was nothing left to say. All they had to be was more stubborn than afraid.


End file.
